The Delight of Self-Governance
If only it could be. Picnics and dances forever. Or, in the case of a church, worship and potlucks, maybe a parade or ice cream social now and then, and a monthly game night. And in a month devoted to Delight–flowers, a game night for grown ups, and a game Sunday up in RE. And never, ever a “fourteenth subcommittee on convening a discussion group”, or a discussion about “whether we will sit or stand or hang from the ceiling or take it lying down”. But alas, even in a month devoted this year to Delight, there must be an annual meeting. Our by-laws demand it. Probably the state of Georgia demands it, too. The best I can promise you is that Dan and I discussed it, and there will not be 14 hours of public comment on the proposed budget or the slate of nominees.
There are people who love governance and are eager for every chance they get to debate the by-laws and policies and procedures of the organizations they belong to–even the church. It’s fun for them. They truly delight in motions and amendments, and in knowing that items must be moved and seconded before they can be debated, and that, by the way, the proper way to make a motion is to say, “I move that XYZ”. But more than just fun, all this is serious business to these lovers of governance, too. Because they know that once an organization gets beyond a certain size, this is the way things get done, transparently and democratically. Probably some of these people are in the room this morning, wishing we’d dispense with worship and get on to the main feature.
There are, of course, other people whose eyes glaze over at the mention of parliamentary procedure, by-laws and quorums. Who struggle to read a profit and loss statement or a budget, or who can read those documents but don’t want to. Who think it can’t possibly matter how we phrase the motion, we all know what we mean anyway, and why do we have to repeat it just so the secretary can get it right in the minutes? Probably some of these people are in the room today, too, hoping that the annual meeting won’t be that bad or wondering if anyone will notice if they sneak out before it starts.
Finally–for the purposes of this sermon, at least–finally, there are also people who understand the importance of annual meetings and who, if not fluent, are at least functionally literate in parliamentary procedure, and who also understand that parliamentary procedure can be wielded as a cudgel to shame people, and suppress the exchange of views, and manipulate outcomes. I hope there are some of these people in the room today, ready to remind us, if necessary, that yes, we are a non-profit organization and our purpose is religious in nature, fostering an environment of spiritual…growth and journeying toward spiritual wholeness by working to build a diverse multicultural Beloved Community.
I suppose in the Venn diagram of these three attitudes toward governance, annual meetings and such, I fall in the place where they all overlap. I didn’t bound out of bed this morning thinking, “Yay! It’s annual meeting day!” I acknowledge that it might be a stretch to suggest that we find delight in self-governance. I also acknowledge the necessity of the annual meeting to the healthy continued existence of the church, and I remain vigilant, mostly against my own tendency toward legalistic nit-pickiness that can lose sight of our covenant as a faith community.
Still and all, wherever any of us fall in the overlapping circles of delighted governance wonks and begrudging participants and faithful guardians of community, we should not lose sight of the import of our status as an independent, self-governing congregation–in relationship with other congregations, and served by the Unitarian Universalist Association of Congregations, but constrained neither in our affairs nor our beliefs by those other congregations or by the Association. As one of my colleagues puts, the same people who didn’t want a sovereign king ruling their government didn’t want ecclesiastical authorities dictating their beliefs or the running of their churches. They also, as our reading pointed out this morning, didn’t want civil authorities running their churches or taxing all the town to support a church not all were members of.
It’s been a minute, since early American Unitarians and Univeralists were separating themselves from Standing Order Congregational churches in New England. And even longer, more than 450 years, since the Edict of Torda, granted religious freedom to the churches of the towns and villages of Transylvania. Here in Savannah we can find independent, self-governing churches on every other block. In that regard we’re nothing special. But here’s the thing: six Western European countries still collect mandatory church taxes from citizens who are formally registered with a church. We live in a country founded in part on separation of church and state (though it’s messy separate with churches being tax-exempt entities and ministers being allowed non-taxable housing cost reimbursement), and practice a faith that has long insisted, as the Edict stated, that our congregations be permitted to keep a preacher whose teaching they approve . . . and our members not be reviled for [their] religion by anyone. Our dual rights of freedom of belief and freedom to be self-governing are to be celebrated and honored, even if delight is a reach too far.
Most, if not all, of us here in this room drove past a handful of other churches to be here this morning. Everyone participating in this service via Zoom had hundreds of other options for live-streamed, YouTube, Zoom, broadcast television church services. We’re here by choice, compelled by neither law, nor geography, nor tradition. That choice comes with a three point price: our financial support, which we’ve pledged generously for the year to come; our volunteer service, which we will celebrate next week; and our participation in governance of the church, which this morning we will do.
One day our church was born. Today our church is born again, from our laboring and into our hands. And I am delighted it is so. Amen